


Just a Family Man

by BlackIris



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Swearing, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 04:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14536974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackIris/pseuds/BlackIris
Summary: Prompts will be in bold throughout fic:150: “We need groceries, not just junk food. You’re as bad as the kids.”





	Just a Family Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Joey99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joey99/gifts).



> I originally thought this line would be said by Natasha to Clint, but that little voice in the back of my head was like “NO, change that shit up: Clint to Nat.” And from there, well, it all basically grew out of that little thought. Anyways, I LOVED writing for Clintasha.  
> Un-beta'd, enjoy!

Clint sighs irritably, shaking his head. He still can’t believe he agreed to this mission as he pulls into the parking lot. An ordinary mission it seemed at first, but it quickly revealed its true purpose. It turned out to be an ordinary data gathering mission, in other words, a stake out. One in which he is at least with Natasha, which isn’t so bad. But he’s also stuck with Tony no less. The later driving what little sanity he has away from him.

Clint sighs again, patting the folded paper in his pocket as he gets out of the midsized sedan that has a child seat strapped into the back seat. He rolls his neck trying to ease the tension rippling through him as he makes his way to the entrance of the small grocery store. His slow shuffle, dark circles, and ruffled clothes an ordinary staple for him, more than sell his cover of suburban father and family man.

He finds a cart that seems to be the lesser of his evils for the day – it’s fourth wheel rattling irregularly.  He makes his way towards the baby food, loading up a few different jars before pulling the list from his pocket.  It’s neatly written in Natasha’s crisp, clear, cursive; a smile slowly spreads across his face.  He works his way through the list and half of the store. Looking to the list again he rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone, dialing the number for the house they’re currently renting. 

The phone rings twice, before the red head answers with a curt, “Hello stranger. Having fun being domestic?”

“Nat, baby. What the hell?” Clint says exasperatedly. “And no.  **We need groceries, not just junk food. You’re as bad as the kids.”**

“You normally don’t have an issue with my.. antics.” Natasha practically purrs into the phone causing a low growl to rumble through Clint’s chest.

“Woman. I am in public. Why must you tease?”

Natasha only chuckles in reply.

“Laugh it up, sweet cheeks, and I won’t get your” he looks to the list again, “sour worms? Really, baby?”

“They help me focus!” Tony yells from a distance, loud enough that Clint can just hear it.

“Why couldn’t we have found a sitter?”

“You know Tony doesn’t trust anyone.” Natasha says, “Much less a stranger. Besides, I’m not ready to be away from the baby yet.”

Clint grumbles to himself as he pushes the cart into the candy isle, randomly grabbing bags of sour candies. 

“You know you love it.”

“I don’t know about that, but when that brat gets cavities I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Okay, have it your way, if you don’t get the sweets you know he’s going to be even  _more_  unbearable.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Clint hangs his head in defeat. “They’re already in the cart.”

Natasha goes silent, too silent. “Clint.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“The baby’s walking.”

Clint sucks in a breath knowing now, finally, this mission is going to be more than just sit, wait, report, repeat.

“And I’m missing it?”

“Just a few steps. He’ll have it down in no time.”

Clint chuckles, unable and unwilling to wipe the smile from his face. “Did you at least record it for me?”

“You know it.”

“You’re the best.”

“Hurry up and get home, if we’re lucky he’ll still be walking by the time you get home. If not, I’ll just have you put him down for a nap.”

“A nap, huh?”  Clint chuckles again, thinking of his poison tipped arrows that would be perfect for such a ‘nap’ for the perp they’re watching.  

“I know how much you love reading him his stories.”

Tony groans in the background, knowing the conversation is monitored just like they are.

Clint laughs again, “Okay, I’m almost done here. While I got you though… You wanted me to get the ones in the glass jars, right, can we recycle them?”

“Oh, we can definitely recycle them, I even have an art project for the baby when he’s a little older.” Natasha chortles into the phone as she sorts the various nails and other items in front of her on the table to be used as aids in the make shift explosives they were going to make later that night. 

“Damn, I love you.”

“I love you too.” The smile evident in Natasha’s words. “Now get home. The baby isn’t the only one that misses you.” 

* * *

 


End file.
